I’m 4 days past IUI. I’m officially supposed to test on Monday, the 18th. But I cracked and tested today.
Yeah. You know the story.
The Jock frowned at me since it wasn’t time: I think he still had some hope. I think he wants it more than he really believes it. He wants the problem to only be about his sperm count, that our last IUI would be successful because of the good numbers.
But I know the truth.
I’m going to keep on pretending that I didn’t take this test, but I’m readying myself.
Stupid thing I did today: I took a flashlight to the pregnancy test just to make sure I could see a faint BFP.
I tried to give myself hope that I’m one of the 30% of pregnant women that test positive 10 dpo, but I have this paranoid feeling that the world is out to get me, that statistics don’t work in my favor.
My friend S., who’s wife was due a week after me, had her baby girl yesterday.
This is when I don’t feel strong at all. When I can’t celebrate the birth of my friends’ child because I’m too consumed with my own thoughts and emotions. I call our protecting myself, but it feels selfish.
Damn. I had such high hopes for June.